"It seems to me," he said, "that I am doomed to be odious in everything connected with this affair. It's not a pleasant _role_." "Well," she said in a vexed tone, "I was prepared to have a little difficulty with Kitty, but you, I certainly expected to take the good I had provided for you, and to have been thankful. You must really understand that there is nothing else that I can do." "I give you my word I'm thankful," said Everitt, with a laugh. "Then, why are you so provoking? Have you given up the idea?" "Have I come to my senses? No." "In that case," she said, "I can't understand." "Oh yes, you can," he replied. "Just reflect for a moment in what an uncomfortable position Miss Lascelles would be placed, if I accepted your kindness. She comes here unsuspecting, and she finds she must either stay and face what is unfortunately disagreeable to her, or do, as I am doing, go away and offend a kind friend. I don't feel that I have the right to force the dilemma upon her." "It would not offend me if she preferred to go." "It would disappoint and vex you. When we make benevolent plans, we hate the people who thwart us. You have been splendidly benevolent." "Well, I think you are taking to scruples at a particularly inconvenient moment. And pray, if each of you flies off at a tangent directly the other is known to be near, how on earth are you ever to meet?" "Ah," said he, smiling, "but I am not going off at a tangent. Give me the chance, and see if I don't use it." "What was this but a chance?" "There shall be nothing more that she can complain of. Everything must be absolutely open and above-board. Come, Mary, you know in your heart of hearts that I am right." "That," she said, with a laugh, "is more than you can expect a woman to own. The utmost you will extract is that I may possibly allow that you are politic. And there is one thing that I shall do." "What?" "Ah, that is my affair. Leave me alone." "I am not sure that you are to be trusted," he said, looking at her, and shaking his head. But he made no further effort to learn her intentions, and in a few minutes took his leave. What Mrs Marchmont meant to do, and did, was to confess to Kitty what had taken place. The girl became a little pale as she listened. "I thought I could trust you, Mary," she said at last. "If you would both trust to me, I should put an end to this foolish slate of things," retorted her friend. "There is nothing to end," Kitty answered quietly, though there was a tremor in her voice. "One would suppose that Mr Everitt and I had once been acquainted, and that something had made us fall out! The truth, however, is simply that we have never known each other, and that circumstances have made it pleasanter that we should remain unknown." "That is all very well for you, but you might consider poor Mr Everitt. He thinks you are hopelessly displeased with him, and naturally that places him in a most uncomfortable position."